


drabble dump 003

by oikaywas (aureations)



Series: drabble dumps [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Praise Kink, the tags makes this sound like so much sin but it's mostly (all) sap i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureations/pseuds/oikaywas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels like coming home, like eventualities | They drag the kotatsu out as soon as it starts getting chilly | A few years ago, Tooru thinks, that person would’ve been me | “Tooru?” Hajime ventures, “What are you doing?” | more than anyone else, Iwaizumi knows Oikawa | “That looks good on you,” Iwaizumi chokes | "Iwa-chan", he says, feeling paper thin</p>
            </blockquote>





	drabble dump 003

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa; for andrea )**

 

 

It starts in middle school.

Oikawa is sharp around the edges, bitter and about to fracture and lost to Hajime. It starts because Hajime isn't good at this, not like Oikawa is, he doesn't know how he can help, doesn't even really know if there is something to help but Oikawa is hurting, and Hajime has never been good when Oikawa is hurting. It starts with a bump of his shoulder, an arm across his shoulders, a gentle knock on his head.

After- after, it gets easier to close the distance between them, a palm across the small of his back, clasping their hands together. It feels,

It feels like coming home, like eventualities, like, like,

  
Like this is how it continues, imperfectly perfect and terribly wonderous and maybe, maybe, it doesn't start in middle school after all, it starts with a scraped knee, with two planets colliding, no, with two people, two hearts connecting, and never truly separating. 

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa; for vellaude )**

 

 

They drag the kotatsu out as soon as it starts getting chilly, Oikawa whining about his poor circulation and cold feet, making Hajime rolls his eyes as they rearrange the living area to fit it. With the both of them being university students, it gets covered with things pretty quickly, notebooks and pens from their course work, unwashed coffee mugs and late night snacks littered across the table.

 

He didn't mean for it to get this messy, Hajime muses as he flicks through his class notes in the midst of exam preparation. He'll clean it after. Later. At some point.

 

Beside him, Oikawa groans, flopping his head down onto the table, sniffling terribly. Hajime ruffles his hair gently, "You should take a rest, Shittykawa," he says, "Or you're just going to get even more sick."

 

" 'm not sick," he mumbles, voice going nasally in a way that indicated that he definitely  _ was _ getting sick.

 

Hajime rolls his eyes, laying down and pulling Oikawa down with him, "Just close your eyes for a bit then." he says, listening to Oikawa grumble in a way that meant he knew exactly what Hajime was doing. Hajime ignores him and continues reading his notes, running his fingers through Oikawa's messy hair, hearing his breathing even out as he falls asleep.

 

He really is too much trouble, Hajime thinks to himself. Maybe he should get Oikawa to clean the kotatsu instead. After all, the mess is as much him as it is Hajime.

 

"Iwa-chan" Oikawa murmurs in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Hajime, his warm breaths tickling Hajime's ear. Hajime feels himself smile fondly. He puts his book down and pulls Oikawa even closer. They can think about those things later, he decides, warm and content.

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa; prompt: anagapesis - the feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did for danielle )**

 

 

He’s sitting at the next table, when Tooru spots him, talking animatedly with the person sitting next to him, beer sloshing over his mug, movements endearingly the same. A few years ago, Tooru thinks, that person would’ve been me.

He watches as Hajime laughs loud and bright, exposing the long line of his throat as he throws his head back, a sight Tooru is intimately familiar with. No, Tooru muses, a few years ago, it would’ve killed me that I wasn’t that person. He watches the scene for a few moments more, smiling softly.

  
He turns away.

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa; prompt: autolatry - the worship of one’s self for isy )**

 

 

“Tooru! I’m done, where are yo-” Hajime stops. There, sitting on the edge of their bed, is Tooru, staring into the closet like it holds the answers to the universe.

He blinks. Tooru’s still there, staring. “Tooru?” Hajime ventures, “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan” Tooru whines, eyes wide as he pouts dramatically, “What am I going to wear?!” Hajime mentally sighs, watching exasperatedly fond as Tooru flails his hands around, complaining about one thing or another. “Oi, Shittykawa,” he says, ignoring Tooru’s whine in protest of the name, “you know I think you look cute in anything, so just pick something and _let’s go_ ”

 

Hajime smiles as he leaves the room. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Tooru’s turned the most adorably satisfying shade of red.

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa;[prompt](https://twitter.com/oikaywas/status/629199131840376832) )**

 

 

Iwaizumi knows that, to anyone else, Oikawa may seem too frivolous, too flippant-

_(“How can you stand him, Iwaizumi?” someone asks him one day, eyes flicking over to Oikawa who is, once again, surrounded by a group of girls. “Not really captain material is he?” they say.)_

-but more than anyone else, Iwaizumi knows Oikawa.

_(His unrelenting determination, the way he is never satisfied with being merely enough, working himself harder than anyone can imagine.)_

Iwaizumi was there, after all, at every late night practice, every early morning, every time he found Oikawa asleep at his desk, volleyball strategies strewn everywhere.

_(So when someone says to him “I don’t know how you do it”, he thinks about Oikawa’s drive, his passion and that hard-headed stubbornness of his and Iwaizumi smiles.)_

Oikawa Tooru never stops reaching for the stars and that’s why Iwaizumi _(could)_ never stop believing in him.

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa;[prompt](https://twitter.com/oikaywas/status/629201012629225472) )**

 

 

“That looks good on you,” Iwaizumi chokes.

“I know,” Oikawa says coyly, smoothing down the wrinkles of his red, pleated skirt, making them fan out across his thighs. Iwaizumi finds his eyes drawn to the motion, following Oikawa’s hands down and down and - fuck, Oikawa definitely knows he’s staring, the tips of Iwaizumi’s ears starting to burn.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Oikawa smiles, knowingly, and Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi thinks “fuck it”, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on Oikawa’s thighs, brushing against the red fabric, smirking slightly when he catches the flash of surprise on Oikawa’s face.

“How about I just show you?” he says, leaning in.

 

 

**( iwaizumi/oikawa;[prompt](http://hqkink.dreamwidth.org/1761.html?thread=88545#cmt88545): praise kink )**

 

 

“Tooru,” a voice murmurs from above him, “open your eyes.”

 

The air feels heated and heavy around him, his own breaths thundering in his ears. He blinks, once, twice, until Hajime comes into focus, staring intently down at him  _ (he can't stand it sometimes, when Hajime looks at him like this, like Tooru is precious, something to be protected, treasured and-) _ .

 

"You're so gorgeous" he says, running his hands firmly against Tooru's side, seeking out his sensitive spots, pressing his fingers, his mouth, against them relentlessly as if he could imprint himself on Tooru's skin  _ (like he isn't there, under, over, in, his skin already) _ . He pauses when he reaches the soft skin of his thighs, his fingers catching along the ridges of Tooru's stretch marks and Tooru nods, anticipating his question already  _ (his thighs, his hands, trembling - he's always been reduced to a shaking mess when it comes to Hajime) _ .

 

He kisses across Tooru’s jawline, nipping slightly as he reaches for the bottle of lube they keep on the bedside table. “So beautiful”, Hajime continues, voice low and soft and Tooru feels so full under his gaze  _ (so overwhelmed, two metres tall and so small, reverberating into all his corners and rough edges until all that’s left is just Tooru, laid bare for him to see) _ as Hajime works a finger into him, kissing away the small whine that rises to Tooru's lips.

 

The second finger slides in easily, aided by the lube  _ (and the way Tooru melts into his touch) _ and Hajime works him open on his fingers murmuring soft endearments in his ear. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Hajime thumbs away the wetness gathering in the corner of his eyes, pressing soft kisses along the hollow of his throat. "Hey", he murmurs, "it's okay. I've got you, Tooru" as if he isn’t ruining Tooru with two fingers and his words alone

 

"Iwa-chan", he says, feeling paper thin, as if one touch could send him shattering into tiny little pieces  _ (but still safe in the knowledge that he’d be pieced together again with utmost care) _ . It gets his point across though  _ (because Hajime, like always, can read him like an open book) _ and Hajime withdraws his fingers.

 

He thumbs at the freckle on Tooru's knee before lining up his cock and then he's sliding into Tooru and it burns, hurts, but Tooru's so full and it feels like so much, he can barely breathe with it. He feels it when Hajime bottoms out, his balls brushing against him and Hajime's talking again, telling Tooru how good he feels, how he's sucking him in so greedily, how well they fit together, like Tooru was made for him  _ (and Hajime for him) _ .

 

Tooru grasps at Hajime's arms, "Move," he says, moaning when Hajime does just that, the slow burn of his movements, sending sparks skittering underneath his skin. Hajime takes his hands  _ (still shaking, trembling, Tooru doesn't know what to do with them) _ and pins them above his head with his, placing the other firm on his hips before picking up the pace, fucking into Tooru with deep, powerful strokes that makes Tooru's vision blur. Tooru feels the pressure building in his stomach, the tingling of his spine as Hajime presses into his prostate with each stroke until Tooru's whining, high and needy in the back of his throat.

 

"It's okay, Tooru," Hajime says, "let go" and Tooru's moaning, screaming, arching off the bed as his vision whites out and he comes, spilling all over his chest. Hajime thrusts unevenly into him, once, twice, before he's following suit.

 

Hajime leans down to kiss him and Tooru can’t do anything but sigh into it, his breaths stuttering. He feels Hajime smile against his mouth.

  
“You’re so perfect” he whispers  _ (and Tooru believes him) _ .

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (like i said it's mostly sap) 
> 
> come find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/oikaywas)!!


End file.
